


Receipt In the Bag?

by ifishouldvanish



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Comedy, F/M, shameless flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-24 13:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9737528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifishouldvanish/pseuds/ifishouldvanish
Summary: Everyone in town dreads checking out at the Dark Star Pharmacy when Lacey French is working the register. Well, everyone except Mr Gold.AU of the duct tape and rope scene from Skin Deep.





	1. Duct Tape and Rope

“Two valentines…  _Nice,_ Mr Nolan!” The cashier laughs.

David Nolan goes completely stiff, and while Mr Gold can’t see his face, he can’t help noticing the tips of the man’s ears are turning beet red.

“Didn’t think you had it in you,” Lacey snorts, punching his total into the cash register. “Though you don’t strike me as the wait-until-the-fourteenth type.”

Gold can’t quite wrap his mind around how Lacey French hasn’t been fired from her post as cashier at the Dark Star Pharmacy yet-- Lacey's idea of quality customer service involves publicly humiliating everyone who comes through the checkout line. Nonetheless, he finds himself huffing out a little laugh. He noticed the man’s two vastly different cards himself while waiting in line. In truth, Mr Gold kind of enjoys her constant ribbing at the town’s expense. It’s not like he thinks very highly of the people in this godforsaken town anyway, and he usually manages to give it right back to her when she dares to tease him. It’s kind of a game between the two of them. A surprisingly enjoyable one he rather looks forward to-- not that he’d ever admit it. No, no.

“Anyway,” Lacey shrugs and pops her bubblegum, “it’s eight seventy-nine.”

David lets out an awkward chuckle and hands her a ten.

The till pops open and she slides it into one of the slots. “Receipt in the bag okay?” 

“That’s fine.”

“Perfect,” she smiles, tearing the strip of thermal paper from the register and tucking it into his bag. David taps his foot anxiously, running his hand through his hair as she counts out his change.

“One… twenty… one!” She chirps, holding out a dollar bill and change to him.

The two dimes slip from David's hand when he accepts it from her, clattering onto the floor. He looks at his feet and hesitates for a minute as he weighs whether or not twenty cents is worth being in the pharmacy a second longer than absolutely necessary. After a beat, he shrugs, waves his hand, and slips out the door.

_Next._

Gold steps up to the counter, exuding all his customary confidence as he sets down his purchases for the evening. Duct tape and rope. He doesn’t miss the amused grin that immediately spreads across Lacey’s face at the sight of them. He was very much anticipating it, after all. He doesn’t have a date this year. He never does. But instead of sitting at home and getting drunk on his scotch, he thought he’d have a wee bit of fun at her expense. It’s not like he’d been planning it all week or anything. Certainly not.

She blows a large bubble and pops it loudly against her teeth, her tongue poking out as she takes the wad of gum back into her mouth. “Duct tape, huh?”

“One should never be without it-- don’t you think, Miss French?” He says with a little smirk. “It has… countless applications.”

“Like muffling the screams?”

He scoffs. “No, no… I have something _special_ for that.”

“Mmm...” Lacey nibbles her lip and winks at him. “I bet you do,” she adds, tossing the tape in the bag and moving on to the rope. She studies it for a moment and smiles. “Any _date plans_ tonight, Mr Gold? ‘Cause I’d say it looks like you’re either a shovel short of a felony, or a bottle of KY shy of a good time.”

“Well,” he sighs, retrieving his wallet, “check the news for a missing persons report tomorrow, and you’ll have your answer.”

“Mysterious...” she croons, wiggling her brows. “I like that.” She places the rope in the bag and rests her elbow on the counter, jutting her hip out and eyeing him up and down.

Mr Gold stops idly thumbing through his wallet and leers up at her. She winks at him and he rolls his eyes. “Are you going to give me the total or not, Miss French?”

“Oh. Right.” She blinks and shakes her head, a delightful blush rising to her cheeks. “Yeah, yeah... It’s uh, twelve thirty-seven.”

Gold smiles and plucks the necessary cash from his wallet. _He’s won this round._

She punches the values into the cash register and prints the receipt. “Receipt in the--” As she tears it out, she frowns and knits her brows together. _“...Huh.”_

He narrows her eyes at her, suddenly feeling nervous. “...What is it?”

“Hang on--” She plucks a sharpie from the jar on the counter and turns her back to him. He watches with interest as she hunches over the back counter and scribbles something down. After a moment, she smacks a hand on the countertop and spins around with a sly little grin on her face. “Nothing, you’re fine. Sorry about that.”

Gold clears his throat. “Receipt and change in the bag is fine.”

“Right.” She drops them into the plastic bag and holds it out to him. “Enjoy your evening.” She says before snapping her gum again. _“...Mr Gold.”_

“Thank you, Miss French.” He nods, starting toward the door. “You do the same.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Gold can’t deny he’s a bit curious to know what she found so strange about his receipt. Once outside, he reaches into the bag and holds it up in the light where he can read it. He stares blankly at her handwriting for a moment, not quite believing what he’s seeing. Slowly, he turns his head back to the shop window, where Lacey French is standing and watching him. Their eyes meet and she winks.

Yup. Definitely a phone number and a time indicating the end of her shift.


	2. A Gallon of Bleach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the customers at the pharmacy are going to need it for their ears.

“Dude! Congratulations!” Lacey gasps as she rings up her latest customer, Ashley Boyd. Biting back a grin, she punches the total into the cash register and bags the bottle of prenatal vitamins. "I'm so jealous--" Lacey leans over the counter as she holds it out to her. “Your tits are gonna look _so_ amazing!” She whispers.

Well-- close enough to a whisper, Gold supposes. Compared to the way she cried out his name the other night, anything would be. He'd been so caught up in her bright blue eyes while they walked down Main Street together, he hadn't noticed the patch of ice on the sidewalk until she pointed it out just in time.

“I-- thank you?” Ashley says weakly.

“Enjoy it while it lasts!” Lacey calls out as she scurries to the door, the rest of the customers’ eyes following her on her way out.

Lacey blows a giant bubble as she looks out at the queue of shoppers before her. It pops the moment she sets her sights on Mr Gold. “I can uh, help the next customer,” she says, adjusting her bra and checking her cleavage.

Standing as tall as a man who is five-foot-seven can, Mr Gold sets a gallon of bleach on the checkout counter. The same counter he had her bent over three nights ago, he reminds himself with little smile. She was wiping down the counter when he showed up at the end of her shift, and she kept missing a stubborn spot on the far side of it which he was all too happy to point out.

Lacey stares down at the jug for a moment, unimpressed. She scowls and snaps her bubblegum. “...Lotta bleach.”

“Well, it does get out even the toughest of stains.” He says coolly, darting a pointed glance at the one on her apron.

Lacey snorts. “This is enough to clean the stains out of the backseat of your Cadillac every week for a decade.”

“What can I say?” He says with a smirk. “I find myself getting _dirty_ quite often, Miss French.”

That earns him a giggle. “You’re so _bad!”_ She teases, daring to reach out and give him a light smack on the back of his hand where it rests on the counter.

A grin spreads across his face. “Oh, but I could be so much worse…”

“Mmm… I'd like to see _that.”_ Lacey wets her lips and leans over the counter on her elbows, the deep cut of her blouse giving him an ample view of her breasts. “I guess we can get as dirty as we want-- as long as we clean up nice, huh?”

“Certainly.” Gold tosses a glance over his shoulder and leans in closely. “Though it was ah… no easy feat after the other night.” He whispers. “It took me _hours_ to wash _that_ filth off.”

Lacey snaps her gum and grins. “I think it's like, one of those things that get easier with practice.” She murmurs with a wink.

He returns a little moan and wets his lips. “I like the sound of that, Miss French.”

Mr Gold had been fretting over where to take her on their date, and so he couldn't believe his luck when he found there was an open slot left at the couple's art class being held down the street. He’d made a mess of his suit with all the paint-- after all, being on a date with Lacey French made him so terribly nervous that he kept dropping his paintbrush every time she smiled at him. But he couldn't bring himself to mind while he was enjoying the pleasure of her company.

She pouts her lips and sucks her teeth. “Yeah. But I mean, maybe you could uh, come by the Rabbit Hole Friday night?”

 _“...Oh.”_ Gold blinks, feeling himself blush. “Well, I-- uh--” he stammers and pulls away from the counter. “I'd have to--”

“Hey!” A voice hollers from the back of the line. Leroy Kleinman. “ _Some_ of us would like to pay for our stuff and get the hell outta here already!”

Lacey rolls her eyes and glares at him. “And yet _you're_ the only one _whining."_  She snaps. “What, you think you're special or something?”

Leroy huffs. “Can we just get on with it? I’m on my lunch break, sister!”

Gold turns around slowly and scowls. “Her _name_ is Lacey.” He grits through his teeth.

“Yeah.” She says, finally running the total for the gallon of bleach. “Show some respect.”

Leroy huffs and folds his arms over his chest. “Just wait 'til I tell Mr Clark about this.”

Lacey snorts again. _“Just wait 'til I tell Mr Clark about this,”_ she mocks him, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue. “Anyway--” she snaps her gum again and leans against the cash register, returning her focus to Mr Gold. “That’ll be four twenty-seven, baby.”

He pulls his wallet out of his coat pocket and plucks out a five. “Twenty-seven you said? I believe I have that--” He hums, opening the bifold wide and digging for the necessary change. “Ten… twenty…”

“Oh, for the love of God!” Leroy groans.

Gold pauses and turns back to him with a pointed look. “Silly me. I’m afraid I’ve _lost count.”_ He mutters, returning the two dimes to his wallet. _“Five,_ ten… _fifteen,_ twenty… twenty-five… twenty-six, twenty-seven! ...There you are, Miss French.” He smiles, gently placing the assortment of nickels and pennies in her hand.

Lacey tucks them away and frowns at the till. “ _Dammit--_ I’m out of ones. Hang on.” She winks, turning around and making a show of bending over. “I have a new stack down here somewhere...”

Gold fixes his gaze on her rear and clears his throat. “Take your time, dearie.”

“Please, don’t.” Leroy sighs.

“Got it!” She snaps back up and drags her finger over the edge of the stack a few times, all the while licking her lips and eyeing Gold like a feast. “They’re uh, sticky when they come in like this.” She snaps her gum again and winks. “Super annoying.”

 _“Ah.”_ He chuckles softly.

“I mean, like--” She hunches over the counter again, sucking her teeth as she continues to air out the stack of singles. “It’s not that I uh, _mind_ getting a little sticky…”

“No, no. Of course not.” He scoffs and leans in closely, indulging in the memory of how she tasted the other night. “I actually got the impression you rather enjoy it,” he whispers. They'd gotten ice cream cones afterward, and when Lacey's started to melt and dribble down her wrist, Mr Gold couldn't resist the temptation to lick it off for her-- once she'd expressed her consent, of course. He licks his lips. _“...Dirty girl.”_

Biting back a smile, Lacey holds a crisp, new single out to him. It's the same smile that was on her face when his act of grooming ended with him gently sucking on her finger. It wasn't long before they were in the Cadillac, hardly able to keep their hands off of each other. “Here’s your change, Mr Gold. Sorry for the wait.”

“Nothing to apologize for, Miss French.” He says, gingerly plucking the dollar bill from her fingers. “In fact--” he continues loudly for Leroy to hear, “I’ve always found waiting for something tends to make it all the more… _pleasurable_ in the end."

Things had gotten heated pretty quickly in the car, but Lacey soon deferred. She explained that she wasn't a _sex on the first date_ kind of girl, and how important it is for her to establish a foundation of trust with somebody before she goes that far with them. So, they cuddled under the stars instead.

A little smirk curls Lacey's lips and she tears off his receipt. She plucks a Sharpie from her jar and quickly scribbles something down on the bottom of it. “I’ll um, try to remember that.” She says, popping another bubble and sliding the receipt across the counter toward him. “...Next time?”

Mr Gold glances down at her handwriting. _7:00._ Framed inside of a heart.

“Aye.” He winks, tucking the receipt and change into his coat pocket. “Next time.”


	3. Screaming Orgasm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because these two need to bond someplace other than the checkout line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever written. Sorry.

The Rabbit Hole is generally the last place where Mr Gold would care to spend his free time, but with Lacey French seated next to him, he can't help feeling like the luckiest man in the world. She's told him all about the various customers she's gotten all day, and how this one guy bought like, five hundred scratch-off tickets and held up the line while he scratched them all off. Worse still, the next person in line had the fuckin’ nerve to blame her for the wait.

That Lacey is still able to consistently bless everyone with her delightful sense of humor while dealing with such utter reprobates all day long speaks highly of her character, Gold thinks.

“One Screaming Orgasm.” The bartender says, sliding the cocktail across the countertop and tucking the tab under the glass. Lacey checks the total and reaches for her purse.

“No, no.” Gold insists, plucking the tab off of the counter. “I'll get it,” he says, sliding his wallet out of his coat pocket.

“Aww. Thank you, baby.” Lacey stretches toward him to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You're so sweet.”

“Not as sweet as you, Miss French.” He croons, drawing a finger along her jawline and inviting her in for a soft kiss on the lips. “Not even all the candy in aisle seven can compare...”

Lacey bites her lip and they gaze into each other's eyes. After all, it was in aisle seven that they first met. Mr Gold remembers that glorious afternoon like it was only yesterday.

 

_“Mr Big bar, huh?” The woman asked, taking a break from stocking the bottom shelves to peer into his basket._

_“Oh.” Gold chuckled awkwardly as he met her startlingly blue eyes. “Yes.”_

_She let out a snort and shook her head. “You know what the uh, slogan for those used to be?”_

_“No, I-- I’m afraid not.”_

_She reached up to the other shelf, taking another long, thick, Mr Big bar into her hand. “When you’re this big, they call you mister,” she told him, wiggling her brows and grinning ear to ear before placing it back on the shelf._

_“...Oh.” He smiled politely and continued browsing the shelves, not quite sure what to say to that._

_“Hey. You’re um… Mr Gold, right?” She said, rising to her feet and leaning against the stock cart. She was looking at him in a peculiar way that made his mouth feel dry and his palms sweaty._

_“That’s… always been my name.”_

_“...Right.” She said, a knowing little smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Well, I’m Lacey. Let me know if I can help you find anything.” She eyed him for a moment longer, biting her lip, and winked. “...Mister Gold.”_

_She pushed the dolly around the endcap and to the next aisle, her hips swaying from side to side with each step in her practical, slip-resistant shoes. It was in that moment that Mr Gold realized grocery shopping would never be the same again._

 

“And you, sir?” The bartender coughs, pulling Gold out of his blissful reverie.

“Oh, I… _Scotch._ Neat.”

Lacey stops sucking down her cocktail. “I'll um, get the next one.” She says around the straw.

“No, no, no,” he tuts. “Have as many as you want-- it’s all on me, sweetheart.”

She narrows her eyes at him and wets her lips. “As many orgasms as I want?”

Gold leans in closely, brushing his lips against her ear. “Until you can hardly walk, my dear.”

“Mm…” She moans and slides a hand over his thigh. “...You'll have to give me a safe ride home then.” She whispers.

He pulls away a little to smile at her. “I'll give you a safe ride to wherever you like--” he says, rubbing their noses together, “ _my_ _naughty little customer service specialist.”_

Lacey giggles and gives him a playful slap on the wrist.

“Alternatively,” he adds huskily, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I could give you some cab fare. Or wait with you while a friend picks you up. _...Would you like that?”_

“Oh, I’m up for just about anything, baby.” She murmurs as the bartender sets his drink down with a thud.

He brushes his thumb along her cheek. “We’ll just have to see where the evening takes us, now won’t we?”

“Maybe it will take me hard and fast on the floor or against the wall.”

“Miss French--” he scoffs, _“you’re incorrigible.”_

The bartender, still standing over them, clears his throat. “Your scotch, sir.” He says, nudging the glass closer to him.

Gold huffs and rolls his eyes at the interruption. _“Yes._ I can see that.” He mutters, and the bartender mumbles a quick apology as he scurries off to the other end of the bar.

“You know, my job title is actually customer service _manager_.” Lacey informs him proudly.

“Hmm.” A sly grin spreads across his face and he eyes her appraisingly for a moment. “That must be what it is, then.”

She furrows her brows. “What _what_ is?”

“What makes you so--” he takes her hand and presses a kiss to it, _“completely irresistible.”_

She bites back a smile, glowing under his praise. _“You think so?”_

He gives her a sidelong look as he sips his drink. “Well, I _do_ love to see a woman in control.”

Lacey scoots to the edge of her seat, sliding a hand over his. “The other day-- when Will was working the register-- this lady tried to combine coupons, so I told her-- _‘Sorry lady, but that's just like, against store policy.’_ And because I become acting manager whenever Mr Clark is out, she just had to like... deal with it.”

“Mm… Pity I wasn't there to see _that._ ” Gold moans. “I might have to try combining coupons one day just so you can reprimand me-- _my little retail vixen.”_

“You know…” Lacey fingers at his tie teasingly, “if you uh, _really_ wanted to get in trouble, you could write more than one bad check in a six-month period.” She says. “Or a single bad check for three hundred dollars or more in merchandise.”

“Oh?” He licks his lips and scoots closer. “And what might the _punishment_ for that be?”

“We make a copy of your ID to put on file, and for the next three months, you're only allowed to pay cash. Store policy.”

Gold shivers and shifts in his seat. “You know how to drive a man absolutely mad, sweetheart.”

“Well, I might make an exception for you,” she says, eyes focused on him as she circles her finger along the rim of his glass. _“...My number one customer.”_

“Oh no.” He blushes. “I insist you punish me using the full extent of your authority--” he says, leaning in and nuzzling her neck. “... _customer service manager.”_

“Oh? You like that-- don't you, baby?”

Gold inhales deeply. “I do. But-- you would violate store policy for me?” He clicks his tongue. “Such a _bad girl...”_

Lacey licks her lips and grabs his tie again, eyeing him hungrily. “Say that again, baby-- Tell me I'm a bad girl.”

He can't fight the cocky little grin that blooms across his face. How could any man refuse such a request? _“...You're a bad girl, Miss French.”_

With a tug of his tie and a little groan, Lacey's in his lap with her mouth on his. The Rabbit Hole falls silent as their tongues slap and tangle together. Someone drops their glass, and not even the crashing sound it makes as it shatters onto the floor is enough to tear them apart. Their groans and gasps for air fill the establishment, much to the other guests’ revulsion.

It isn't until the collective disgust wears off and everyone returns to their small talk and billiard games that they finally part from each other.

Lacey catches her breath and wipes her face with the back of her hand. She cups his face in her hands and wets her lips. “Take me home already, _you sexy little man, you.”_

Oh yes. He was, in actual fact, the luckiest man in the world.


End file.
